Beliefs, Mercy and the Sad Truth
by Creativity's Loyal Servant
Summary: She chokes back a mix of a sob and a scream as she manages to scramble over the mass of barbed wires just as she hears a soft hum come to life, signifying that the fence is alive with electricity. And just as she turns back to face it, her gaze locks onto a running figure, screaming as he sprints to the fence thinking that he can escape the impending doom behind him. Nick.


Beliefs, Mercy and the Sad Truth

She chokes back a mix of a sob and a scream as she manages to scramble over the mass of barbed wires just as she hears a soft hum come to life, signifying that the fence is alive with electricity. And just as she turns back to face it, her gaze locks onto a running figure, screaming as he sprints to the fence thinking that he can escape the impending doom behind him.

Nick.

He reaches the fence and is about to clutch the rusted wire like a lifeline to fling himself over before realising that it's turned on. She finds it hard to tear her gaze away from those pleading bright blue orbs before rotting swollen knuckles reach in to grab his neck; a fountain of blood spurting from the bite made by the blunt teeth of the walker. Her mouth falls agape as she take a trembling step back and watch helplessly as the flesh eating demons move in and latch onto to his thrashing body.

"Cl-Clementine-!"

He gurgles out her name (his last words) as the final blow comes from a walker who decides to take a chunk out of his neck. Clementine watches the light in Nick's eyes being extinguish, continuing to stare blankly at his corpse at silence fills the air; exceptions being the growling, hissing and crunches of human flesh and entrails being devoured.

She doesn't even notice as one walker in particular; a squat zombified child with cold grey skin like all the rest of them, staggering and inching towards the buzzing metal nest until she hears the crackling and fizzing of electrified zombie flesh.

Through the white noise of walkers being fried by the current of electricity, Clementine feels a coldness seeping in as her knees sink into the moist grass. In the midst of the static, she hears footsteps racing towards her, before a rough hand urges her to move to safety.

She looks up.

It's Luke.

"Clem! Where's Nick?! We have to get out of-"

His eyes catch upon the mangled sight of his best friend's corpse, where some of those monsters were still hunched over feeding upon what was left of Nick. Clementine could barely open her mouth to speak, before Luke draws his rifle and shoots all of them down. One by one, the undead cadavers fall, but even then, the rifle is still in his hands. (was he trembling?) Clementine decides to stay hush as she watches the rifle being lifted to put a bullet through Nick's head.

"He wouldn't have wanted to come back as those things." She hears Luke mumble to himself as he replaces the rifle into its holster and grabs her hand. "Let's… get going, Clementine."

I am an eleven year old girl, and I've been stuck in a zombie apocalypse for three years.

Back when I was still just an innocent girl of eight, three years before the outbreak, I always used to think that the world had sets of rules to follow. Commit something illegal or unacceptable and there would be some sort of penalty. Act like a sophisticated and hardworking citizen, and you'll reap your benefits. By the time the outbreak came around, I couldn't believe just how wrong I was.

But then again, what did a scrawny little eight year old girl know about this mad world? Little to nothing, that's what.

The worldwide population collapsed just the few days after it had begun. Districts became safehouses for people to shelter in, cities were abandoned from the influx of reanimated cadavers, the vaccines failed with each attempt made. Nothing else mattered anymore; survival was top priority, it meant life or death. To most people, that was the main goal.

And to the rest? They kill themselves in the end. Who would want to live in a world like this anymore?

I am an eleven year old girl, and unlike most children back then, I had to grow up _fast_. It's either that, or imminent death.

We eventually reach the pathetic excuse of a base we have, and the moment I walk in through the threshold, Luke wraps a blanket around me and pushes me to the worn torn couch.

"Get some rest. I'll be… scouting the area a bit. Don't worry."

I lie on the couch and do as he says, (I don't feel like disobeying him right now from what he saw) cocooned in the bare threaded blankets. If I heard the small sniffle and whispered _'fuck'_ that Luke uttered out, I didn't say anything.

The door shuts, and that tells me his guard on the place.

I am an eleven year old girl, and I like to think that this is the world's way of reminding us how we are at its mercy.

But even then… I still like to believe that if I tried hard enough, I might see Lee again.


End file.
